


Not A Golden Apple

by Alephyr, JRDyuu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War, Fire Emblem: Thracia 776
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Gen, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alephyr/pseuds/Alephyr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JRDyuu/pseuds/JRDyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raquesis had expected the utmost heroic legend to blossom out of the heir her brother left behind. He had to be alive, after all; and he was when found—who leaves nothing to be favored.<br/>(AU scenario fic on the 'what-if' had Raquesis found Ares post-Leonster's Fall.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Golden Apple

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for some one-sided (in her eyes) Raquesis→Eldigan views that linger a little too deeply but not overabundant (just enough to get the message across). No actions, only in the narrative.
> 
> Finn/Raquesis is only relative to set Nanna's father in stone. With Delmud/Dermott, well... it can go either way for now as he isn't mentioned. Beowulf or Finn, pick your shipping poison. :P

Bitterness. It had been mouth-souring after she found him and somehow managed to bring him with her to the others. Now she wished she hadn't.

The brash, sharp-tongued princess of Nordion hoped that there would be _something_ remaining of Eldigan's living flesh and blood, and it only made sense if she looked for the sole heir he left behind—the closest thing (aside the Earth Sword memento) to not let her crisp memories of her gallant older brother wither and die.

Last thought she had when she was caught by surprise by Ares' presence right behind her, after she slipped out of the small house one gray morning, was the dreaded first train of thought crossing her mind: _Grahnye's son_.

Not _Lord Brother Eldie's_...

 

* * *

 

It wasn't hers— she stopped her thought and bit the tip of her tongue between teeth — _he_ wasn't. A grim reminder each passing night kept the betrayed princess from getting peaceful sleep.

The succinct, cold words that woman gave her a while ago still etched within her soul when Raquesis finally found their living quarters—then left nothing but the cursed blade Mystletainn and an attitude behind; couldn't trust that witch with the letter she wished to deliver, and was not troubled at all by her feelings that she did not want to afterwards and carried no regret.

The boy could barely carry the sword, just centimeters off the ground when he desperately clung to the hilt much larger than his small hands whenever he dragged it around. His piercing gaze threatening anyone who dared lay their eyes on the wicked, holy sword the hero once wielded like his fragile life depended on it.

The first time she met Eldigan's son's gaze after he got hold of it, shivers ran down her spine, not being able to hold eye contact. Moderately grateful she was to find anything remaining of Eldie in flesh, there was something very _off_.

~~**———** ~~

Combing her slender fingers through the side of her thick hair, pushing back the strands over her shoulder as she read a tale with delicate passion to her daughter, whose blue eyes shone brilliantly and curiously at the melody-like words to the ear. Raquesis wasn't exactly reading the story word for word—it was easy for her to follow while using her own fantasies to speak of too-bright days of a knight with a lion's heart of gold who had enraptured a young princess' heart who knew nothing like his devoted attention prior to their meeting.

It has turned into more than just that, she thought, there's so much more to him I've come to treasure.

Eldigan had been deserving of a fierce lioness befitting of his caliber; not a different species who would be far too frail in her eyes to measure up to the Lionheart's grandeur to the crown.

Nanna's eyes flickering away made her stop and jolt her attention to see Ares hidden in the shadows of the doorway. Feeling her heart grow cold and hung tight in her chest - like her heart was in a glass casket hanging off a brittle frozen branch about ready to fall anytime with the dreaded sound of millions of glass pieces shattering.

Her hands snap the book shut and turned her body to face him, rose lips parting without a sound for a moment.

“...Is there something you need, Ares?” Tone not exactly welcoming, but made sure it did not mirror _her_ tone of coldness. She was speaking to Eldigan's son, after all, there was no reason to be distasteful towards the youngster, right?

Ares continued to stare— the sharpness of his gaze did not reflect any lion's warmth and this made Raquesis' heart twist into a couple of small knots and her face slipped into a stiffened state in response to her thoughts—not like Eldigan, but that witch, Grahnye...

He was so quiet that she had to wonder what simple things were being processed through him that he did not say. Ares seemed reluctant to let his feet take him inside the room, very cautious to walk around the davenport, lifting himself to hang off the back of the furniture— _what is with this child?_ —, his shifty eyes cast downward at the book in the blonde lady's clamped hand.

“...what were you reading?” He had heard; the child-like grave expression told her as much.

Raquesis' lips closed firmly and stood, a quiet 'mama?' did not stop her from putting the book away behind piles of boxes on the wooden bookcase.

“A young rightful prince as you should be sleeping,” she responded, an answer that the boy found dissatisfaction with how quick the mood of his expression changed very slightly, but he didn't need a straight reply.

Ares had known about the inexcusable tale of his aunt, who, too, was a traitor for siding with his father's killer and staying with Sigurd to the end regardless of the result. His dearest mother cursed both him and her to the core of Earth's Hell, and for good reasons. No matter how much Raquesis tried telling the prince the story that Eldigan had given his own life for her; never was brutally betrayed and slain by his friend—none were had.

“Father only loved Mother,” said the Nordion prince, unfaltering in his words, and they sent a pang to Raquesis' heart.

She who once believed Eldigan needed a lioness like her to match his nobility, not some foreign weak-willed lady to bear the child... Of course not, they were against interbreeding of those with the same blood, it was necessary to avoid the eventual downfall of the Hezul line. Doomed as Agustria's fate was along with him. (As it would offend the gods and give them great misfortune were such a sin to occur.)

Raquesis honestly thought it took a miracle for Ares to not turn out to be a disappointment due to his parentage when she'd first found him again after Thracia engulfed Leonster in the flames of war, taking a good amount of the population's lives with their attack. If she had it in her, she could say 'sadly, Ares' mother was one of the casualties,' but that pitying was never spoken, let alone present in her mind.

She could play along. Ares was _Eldigan's_ son, who was growing up steadily and still resembling exactly like her brother in appearance. No hint of that brilliant golden hair darkening to bronze as he aged to remind her of Grahnye. His honey, amber eyes mirrored his father's, as well. The very same brown she came to find peace staring into as a wee princess years back.

There was nothing wrong, except it was, to wish for this. Ares' sharp, cold eyes were nothing like his and only served as a recalling to the witch's icy welcome that planted poisoned seeds within the center of Raquesis' heart that she so desperately want to get rid of.

Ares' headstrong mindset on wanting to avenge his father's death _for_ his mother kept her head from going too high into the clouds.

~~**———** ~~

He never saw him as Quan's, but rather Sigurd's sister's kid. The glowering over supper was none to be desired by Finn, but who was he to speak up against the crowned prince of Nordion—he who inherited enriched exalted blood of Crusader Hezul? To a noble, he still held to his post with respect and to not get out of line.

Leif picked up on this, voiced his own opinion of the treatment he was receiving, only to be met with 'it has nothing to do with you.' Leif's cheek puffed up on one side and they had their occasional stare downs over the table, but no trouble was ever caused.

Ares hardly ate much with them; always the last one to sit down and the first one to leave. Whatever thick air there was that he brought, it was short-lived. What Leif had been cheerily laughing at fifteen minutes ago would sound around the table again after he left.

The tension was so thickening some days that from the corner of her eye, she caught Finn slip a finger under his own collar to loosen from it feeling tight and quietly swallowing the lump in his throat. With how Finn made sure to not to drop his guard to look too relaxed, it was also obvious if he looked too uptight and on edge.

Despite the tension over meals, Nanna seemed unfazed by it all and still insisted on watching Ares train in the morning and midday—mostly out of awe that this was the brave Lionheart's headstrong prince who remained unmoved in his beliefs (much like the knight Raquesis described with her bedtime stories). Finn gave the princess a concerned glance and lowered his head; it couldn't possibly go worse from here but he knew better than to hope too optimistically.

It barely helped that Raquesis was having a constant conflict with herself on what she _wanted_ and what was supposed to be _right_.

 

* * *

 

Curls scratched at his brow as he lifted head to the near blinding morning glow of the sun. It was far too soft that it made the surroundings look hazy yet dark due to the cold-roughened thickets and crunchy leaves on the quietening earth soil. Fresh, chilled air bit his nose and mouth when Ares took a quick intake of breath, blowing the icy air back out into visible frost, however translucent.

_Chip, chip. Creak._

He stayed his hand, the light weight of the wooden sword not weighing his hand down as carrying the Mistel- _something_ would have. Distant sounds traveled to the ear, not far from the cottage he now resided in.

Was it Nanna again? She had come the morning before to watch from the small porch in her thick beige shawl, the knotted collar covering her chin. Whenever he turned around during one of his breaks to see her cheeks and ears go a rosy color from the weather, he commented that she should go inside and not be out here. Of course she always refused and he gave up after a couple of weeks with the choice well within his hands to only mind his own.

But, no. It was not her, who act just like a small yellow bird sticking her nose in any chance she got. His movements had halted long before he realized it, his leery eyes peering through the leaf-less tree branches, there was an all-too-familiar form with the soft sun's color for that long hair in gray.

It was his...aunt?

Silently, he moved to lean his shoulder up against the hardwood around the corner out of her immediate vision. She hadn't heard him yet... Ares supposed this was a good sign, that way he could stay hidden for as long as he liked. Nanna wasn't around to give him away.

But...what she had on was out of place and it troubled him. Raquesis was wearing a dark cloak with minimum tatters, the fraying threaded hood covering half of her head as she looked around the autumn-reaping landscape.

For a presence that stood out a bit too much to him even compared to the wimpy Leonster's prince, that had far changed to one trying to fade away by force; to blend in with the morning's grayness and fogginess.

_Crack, crunch._

Raquesis hadn't noticed him. Yet, she did not head in the direction of where her horse was kept. After that woman whom his mother had despised walked a few steps, Ares clenched his jaw and trudged until he was a good couple of meters behind her.

“Where are you going?”

A sharp gasp escaped her, body jerking around to a sudden standstill, her right hand clutching to the neckband of her cloak. As she breathed soundlessly, the hazy frost in front of her was still visible to the eye. It had been a few long moments that she stared, contemplating between the thoughts going through her mind and the raw emotion in the pit of her stomach.

The left side of her moved slowly under the outer layer of cloth, the wrist of her arm poked out into view, her fingers about to raise like she wanted to reach out for the boy right there.

But she stopped.

Her reddening rosy lips parted, a crack of a _not-so-sweet_ smile that probably should not have appeared. The heel of her boot stepped back, sinking into the soil as Aunt Raquesis turned, her eyes much colder than ever before. That right hand of hers jerked as if something within her broke – like the snapping of a rose's thorn into two – as broken as that bitter smile gracing her twisting lips. Drawing out one more long breath and pursed her lips into a firm line, she tilted her head briskly in a certain way that the other side of the hood slipped down and concealed the other half of her face from the boy she came to find unfavorable despite him sharing her—and _his_ —blood.

There were so many questions he wanted to ask. None which he never cared to know the answers. Even with another, he didn't bother to go after her when she so quickly turned and hurried off until the trees swallowed her up in the distance.

~~**———** ~~

He spoke naught a word once inside. There was no need to. The other two kids were nowhere in sight, and he had found the knight in his chair with a grim look engraved on his face, head lowered to the point it looked like his long tufts of hair were covering his eyes, a half-empty glass of ale in hand placed on the small round table.

_Thump, thump, thump._ Noises were made that was unusual to hear from Ares who normally remained silent yet Finn still did not look up.The prince stood by the storage cabinet, shifting an odd-shaped sword he had seen Aunt Raquesis with once or twice to the side to put away the practice sword. _Clank._

Whatever his aunt had done, it took quite an emotional toll on them. After a while, Finn tried hard to not let Raquesis' long disappearance get to him, but the bags under his eyes told otherwise.

Mayhaps it was just from trying to tend to the kids' needs even with a couple others around to do that job, Ares figured instead. It had been a while since she'd left, and here... It wasn't an ideal place he'd want to continue staying.

Finn seemed to have concluded that the fallen Nordion Lord's son could hold his own. Leif held a grudge against him and Ares could tell from how begrudging he gets when he had to spend too long with him. Nanna still hadn't let up on coming too close for Ares' comfort, seeing him as something he was not—much like her mother initially had tried; only time would correct it and Ares had no intentions of waiting till then.

Once Ares descended upon the demon blade and reacquired it into his possession, there was no stopping the new youthful wielder from setting out on a journey of his own.

"I'm going out," was all he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to those who get the bits of mythology references thrown in! The 'golden apple' have both Norse and Greek roots, so I guess it hits the jackpot?
> 
> This could work as a oneshot, however if I feel it, I'll turn this into a two-parter one day with a follow up chapter to be a timeskip sequel-of-sorts.  
> (And for anyone curious, no, I was not intending for Ares/Nanna to occur down the line. It's just kinda there to show how screwed up this AU can be from the start, but eh, it doesn't have to be read that way either because nothing's going to be done with it after this.)


End file.
